Huitème semaine (Week Eight)
I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO BOMBARDED BY MIRACLES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. Vraiment. As I mentioned previously, Sœur Fairchild and I had a baptism last week, and of course, it was perfect. Beyond perfect, actually. Isaac was so ready and the testimony he bore afterwards was so sincere. Apparently, according to the ward records, this is the first baptism in a year and a half. The ward was so stoked and were so welcoming to him.
 |
| Isaac |
Several miracles took place during the program as well. One of the people we met on the street, this, need I say, extremely attractive Asian psychology professor/accordion player randomly showed up at the church house even though he told us he doesn't believe in God.
Also, someone had apparently turned off the water in the middle of church, so we had about four feet of water to baptize this 10'9" African man, BUT SOMEHOW, and I'm not sure of the physical dynamics and laws that played into all of this, it went smoothly. Even the musical number we did went fine after only two days of practice. Our DMP gave me his old guitar to play while I served here and so we sang and played a song for Isaac. I think God allowed my fingers to do bar chords specifically for that time because every time leading up to that was a hot mess. Thankfully, I have only had to play one song in front of the congregation on the piano because, miraculously, random people that play piano visit our ward occasionally and volunteer. Imagine them having to listen to me five times in one day. God loves His children.
The next miracle is the reason I'm convinced why God has placed me in Carcassonne at this time. There is a family here, the Mudarra family, who is completely active and loves the gospel. Except for the grandfather, who has refused to be baptized ever since his family converted decades ago. All of you that know my mother's side of the family would understand why I immediately connected with them.
The background of this story kind of starts at the train station at Zone Conference a couple weeks ago... I met a missionary named Elder Phelps as we were about to leave for our train. He asked me if I was going to Carcassonne and, obviously I told him yes, so he shook my hand and said, "Take care of my grandparents."
I didn't know what that meant until my first Sunday here. There was a family visiting, the Phelps family. Sister Phelps (who married an American and speaks English), got up to bear her testimony and stated that she had a son serving in this mission, so, me being the creepy stalker that I am, went up to her afterwards and was like, "I KNOW YOUR SON!!" She was more enthusiastic than I expected her to be. Next to her was her mother, Sœur Mudarra, and she went from looking very sullen to very chipper immediately. She was the lady whose husband I was supposed to teach, according to our records. I told her l couldn't wait to meet Frère Mudarra and she said in the most delightful old-lady voice, "Oh, you will." (In French, obviously).
Back to the baptism... Frère Mudarra (Elder Phelps' grandfather) SHOWS up for sacrament meeting, LOVES it, STAYS for the baptism, and COMES up to me and Sœur Fairchild, and tells us we can come by later (even though his wife had already invited us behind his back :) ). We were reflecting later that evening and we truly feel like this family's wait is over. Sorry, cliffhanger. We are seeing them this week!
FACTS I LEARNED:
- The French word for "Horsetrack" is "Hippodrome". You're welcome...
- The Ukulele is a simple instrument. Its chords, however, are not.
- Vietnamese Ward Mission Leaders with the title as one of the best karate instructors in the world will get up immediately after an opening prayer in a missionary coordination meeting and start teaching us how to claw people's faces off.
- There is a form of deadly martial arts that comes from Brazil called, "Capoiera" and you get a special name if you know it... The Phelipe family finally gave me my Capoiera name this week even though I can't fight worth beans. "ONCINHA", which is Portuguese for "little bear." Be jealous.
My companion has got to be sick of me. Every time we leave the apartment and have to walk or take the bus somewhere, my mouth is just spilling out lists of everything I love. France has taught me to pay attention to the details.
The other day while we were heading to a rendez-vous at a member's house who lives out in isolation and is completely surrounded by the clouds of heaven. I was so close to losing my sanity. My experience can be recapped as follows: "Oh my gosh, that tree. I love that tree. I love those branches. And that stone fence. And that house. And those shutters. And that door knob. And those flower pots. And that shovel. Sœur Fairchild, seriously, look at that shovel. God uses that shovel."
Before my mission, my appreciation for nature was actually a piece that connected my testimony of God's existence to all other concepts of this gospel. There is nothing that can better erase all my worries and doubts like a train ride through the French countryside. I can't really explain it more clearly. There is is scripture in Alma that states, "All things denote there is a God," and I have taken nature and related it to that. I can't understand how there can be so many people who are surrounded by so much evidence can still spit on the idea of there being a Higher Power. Don't look at the big picture alone. Appreciate the little things. The little things are the pixels that make up the bigger picture.
I love you all and I thank God for your support every day. Gardez la foi, mes chers amis. Je vous aime.
Sœur Green
No comments:
Post a Comment